Carmen has now started to walk around. Actually that’s not entirely true. ‘Walk’ is an exaggeration. She sort of wobbles while making little, jiggly hops. She looks very sad but hopeful.
Of course, this means I have to be on guard for her sudden appearance just to make sure she’s not trying to jump or run. Jumping is pretty impossible but it wouldn’t stop her. She keeps staring at the dining chair she normally sits on, her one back leg twitching, preparing for the leap but can’t quite manage to get any further.
The trouble is, she spends most of the time lying on the lounge (or upstairs on the bed) and, to appear next to me in the kitchen means she’s jumped (or fallen) off wherever I plonked her. Jumping up or down needs to be avoided.
A new development today has been her managing to get the bandage off. I found her on the bed licking her wound with the bits of dressing littering the waffle blanket. I told her off and, of course, she gave me the sad look.
I found an unmatched sock, cut the toe off and managed to slip it over her leg. I couldn’t find any gaffer tape to secure it so it had to be electrical tape. Electrical tape is not very good. I have to keep my eye on her all the time. I’ve promised her a bucket for her head when we return to the vet tomorrow.
Being housebound isn’t exactly much fun but today it was broken by the arrival of the plumber. He’d returned to finish off the boiler (a small job) and pick up his pipe cutting tool. This was an interesting object that I couldn’t work out either what it was used for or how it was operated.
He picked it up and, with a small flick, had it open. He opened it wider and closed it down by clicking a hidden lever. He was very pleased to get it back. It is used to cut white ‘plastic’ pipes used in boiler installations…and anything else that needs white plastic pipes.
We chatted while he worked and he told me about a somewhat freaky customer he had last week. It made me glad I hadn’t chosen to be a plumber.
The problem was a faulty combi boiler and Mark (the plumber) turned up three minutes early for the appointment and knocked on the door. A tall, ramrod straight, six foot tall chap wearing a grey tracksuit that was two sizes too small and with an elaborate greasy, comb over, opened the door.
Mark told him who he was. The guy asked why Mark was late. Mark looked at his watch and, politely, said he was actually early.
The guy stood motionless, just staring. Eventually Mark asked him if he wanted him to fix his boiler because he’d have to come in to do so. The guy then asked him in.
Mark said this was only just the beginning. While he was working, the guy kept walking back and forth behind him, strangely kicking his feet out at the end of each length of the room, making odd clicky noises with his slippers.
After about ten minutes of this Mark turned around and went off at him, telling him to sit down or just stand in the corner.
The guy became all indignant, telling Mark that it was his house and he couldn’t tell him what to do. Mark conceded he had a point and apologised, asking him if he could just sit and watch.
At one stage there was a knock at the door and a milkman, going door to door, trying to drum up business, asked the guy if he’d like to order milk. The guy proudly stated he didn’t need to because he bought it at the shop. The milkman started telling him it would be more convenient but didn’t quite finish as the guy had slammed the door in his face.
Mark’s blood ran cold as he heard the guy lock the front door and slide home the three huge bolts, effectively locking him inside with this lunatic. Through a nearby window, he could see the milkman disappearing down the road. He desperately wanted to bang on the window and cry for help.
Now Mark isn’t a small guy but he said this guy freaked him out. At one point, Mark had the boiler cover off and bent over to grab a screwdriver and suddenly, out of nowhere, this guy appeared, trying to reach into the open box. Mark just grabbed him in time, saving him from a fatal electric shock.
The guy explained he was trying to help. Mark explained he’d have been dead if he’d touched any of the cables. Mark told me this would have probably been a good thing and saved him a lot of trouble.
Anyway, Mark couldn’t finish the job because he needed a small part so he told the guy he’d be back in the morning. He put the boiler back together and tidied up, telling the guy it might not be him returning. He finished by putting the boiler cover back on, securely.
The next morning he turned up to finish, what should have been a five minute job, to find the kitchen floor completely covered by the contents of this madman’s toolbox. Mark said it looked like the guy had been collecting bits and pieces in a giant toolbox for about 300 years and had just upended it. He had to use a broom to give him access to the boiler.
The guy had also removed the boiler cover for reasons known only to…well, no-one really.
Mark fixed the boiler with the new part, put the cover back on and almost ran out of the door. He vowed never to return – to me and Jenny in the office, I should add and not to the freak of a guy.
He also told me some rather nice things about Prague after I told him we were going for Christmas which lightened the conversation somewhat.
Other than that, I had to stand patiently in the middle of the garden for a while but I managed to get a few lovely shots of this chaffinch.